What the End Brings
by Babytree
Summary: This story takes place shortly after the events of Return of the Jedi. Whether it's all a dream or in fact a miraculous example of time-travel, Luke finds himself in the middle of the Clone Wars. Will he take advantage of the opportunity to stop his father's future reign and the evil of the Empire, or are some things better left untouched?
1. Prologue

Author's Note:: This is a story I've wanted to read for a long time, but I haven't seen anything quite like it yet. It isn't going to be super long, and I'm already struggling with terminology and historical references, but I'll give it my best if you'll give it a read.

Love,

-B.T.

P.S. If you feel up to it, please rate and review.

"Who is to say that the Rebels aren't the real villains here? The economy has been devastated, law enforcement is nearly nonexistent, health care, unemployment and ambassadorial policies have all been wiped out. We are doomed. What is freedom, if we are leaderless?"  
"Thank you, Mister Ra'sier. We've got to take a break, but next up we'll hear from Sir Airian Voss, and Coruscant's new Senate-resurrection plan. Stay tuned!"

Luke rolled over the thin, military-grade mattress as his hand slammed the large, illuminated OFF button of the bedside clock. He looked blearily at its digital numbers, their bluish glow demanding the start of another day. He flopped onto his back. The entire room, much like the rest of the quickly assembled Rebel base of Endor, was gray. Inevitably, his eyes found the plastic-covered ceiling.

So quickly the partying and rejoicing that came with liberation had ended and dissolved into panic and stress. The galaxy and its respective planetary systems were free of the Emperor's tyranny, yes, but also of their common rule. The Imperial Ruling Council was gone, and people suddenly had to think for themselves. They were like slaves, running around, confused without their master. The Emperor had controlled trade. He controlled education. He oversaw transportation units, information broadcasting and the HoloNet which, so recently re-opened to the public, seemed bent on trashing the Rebel Alliance. The galaxy, at least for now, was lost without him. Luckily, as the pre-emergency Imperial senators emerged (the Imperial "senate" had been disbanded shortly after the Declaration of Rebellion was published and the Empire declared a state of emergency) and the arguing finally subsided, the general consensus seemed to be in favor of rebuilding the Old Republic...That idealistic dream that rode on the whispers the old fashioned and prejudiced. It was a long shot, but maybe it would work, and that was enough of a reason to hope.

And yet.

And yet, Luke couldn't shake the heavy feeling from the pit of his stomach. Life was a whirlwind around him. He had been ranked a general, even before the new military had a chance to be formed. The war was over, and he had his friends and his family by his side.  
Friends, except for Ben and Yoda. Family, except for...Father.  
Adrenaline had allowed Luke to throw around that term, "father" as it had been needed. He had been able to tell Leia the truth about their family, but ever since the craziness died down, the queasy reality had settled in.  
His father was a Sith Lord. Even if he had truly experienced redemption, Darth Vader was a merciless, master of evil. Had he been alive, he would have been tried for his crimes against galactic life. He was a prime reason that anyone bearing the name, "Skywalker," should not be a Jedi.  
What had driven his father to betray the Jedi and Ben? Why didn't he overthrow the Emperor? If only he could have helped the old man, somehow. So much he would give, if he could rewrite history- if he could make the change that would save lives and so much heart ache.

Damn. What was it about sorrow that called for such tall orders?

"Luke? Luke?!"  
Luke blinked several times, pulled out of his musings. He couldn't entirely suppress the grin that his sister's impatience brought. Even if he felt temporarily weighted, Leia was spunky enough to liven even the weariest souls.

"Luke- Oh," She stopped in her tracks, standing in the doorway when she found him, still in bed.  
She huffed and, shaking her head, trudged into the room. As she shoved the window-panel up, light flooded the cubical room and made Luke squint.  
"You were supposed report to base, seven clicks ago," She chided. "Admiral Ackbar needs you to approve the deployment program from Endor. If we don't download and relay the ambassador's com link files by- Are you listening?"  
Luke blinked again. Why was it so hard to stay focused?  
"Yeah...Yes. Right, okay. Let me get dressed, I'll meet you down there. Fifteen ticks, I swear." He tried to manage a smile, but it came out meek and weird. It didn't seem to fit anymore.  
Leia watched him, her lipsticked lips pursuing slightly before she rolled her eyes.  
"Fine," She told him. "Make it thirteen, we don't have time. Everything is due yesterday." She made her way for the door, the exit swooshed automatically open. "Also, we have Boonta Eve flat bread in the mess hall. Maybe you're interested."  
If Luke hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have noticed the quiet smile that flashed across his sister's face at the mention of one of Luke's old favorites, before she rushed back into the hallway. It was hard on her, too, but she was doing her best to support him.  
Dressing was simple. He wore the same outfit, a black tunic, simple pants and boots everyday. They never managed to stray far in his small, empty living quarters. His lightsaber was clipped safely to his belt; it was beginning to feel more natural there.  
As he exited his room, a gust of cool air from the rest of the base rushed into his face. His skin felt sort of clammy and damp suddenly, but it could always be cured with food. When was the last time he had eaten, anyway?  
Making his way to the mess hall proved to be no easy task. Everyone wanted something from him this morning.

"Luke!" Biggs' familiar voice called out. He motioned over for Luke to review the tactics for an air relief mission.

"General!" Admiral Ackbar needed his signature.

"Master Luke!" C-3PO cried out, R2 had gone missing.

Luke himself was beginning to feel stranger and stranger still. It seemed to him that he was caught in that pre-sick phase, with a throat that felt slightly too dry to be normal, a cold sweat and a pulsing headache. Perfect. This was all he needed.

He staggered into the mess hall, the air smelling of dish water and fresh bread. The ground seemed a little shaky, but before Luke could step into the food line, a HoloNet droid buzzed over, it's clunky, spherical form dashing through the mess hall and stopping short, only to hover expectantly in front of Luke's face.

Immediately it snapped a few photographs, the flash stunning Luke. A humanoid voice came from the droid,  
"Luke Skywalker, as the newest general, what are your plans to rebuild the military and defense after Lord Vader's disappearance?"

Luke rubbed his eyes,  
"Blast...Who let this droid in here? Somebody get it out of my-"

"Luke Skywalker, as the newest general, what are your plans to rebuild the military and defense after Lord Vader's disappearance?" The droid repeated itself, awaiting some key words to signify an answer.

He rubbed his face. Something was not right. This headache was relentless...

"Luke Skywalker, as the newest general, what are your plans to rebuild the military and defense after Lord Vader's disappearance?"

He growled, half heartedly making a move to swipe at the hovering globe, but missing under the shakiness of his legs. People were beginning to stare, and even though Luke now technically outranked them, he flushed with embarrassment.  
Stumbling backward, he struggled to maintain balance while the droid snapped more pictures, the lights flickering before his eyes.

"Hey, kid are you alright?"  
A familiar voice asked, but it didn't quite register with Luke. He swayed, standing in the middle of the of the mess hall's tiled floor, alongside a sea of tables and chairs.  
"Someone get him a-"  
With a heavy sigh, Luke was relieved of his delirious swaying, as the floor rushed up to meet him.


	2. Organized Chaos

Author's Note:: Now we're getting started. I've introduced some old names here, you'll see more of them later. Poor Luke, his day is going to get weirder and weirder. Also, for now please forgive the awkward spacing; I've been writing these on my phone. I've read the reviews, and they are appreciated. Please leave some more behind! ...But only if you want to.

Love,

B.T

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Alright, men. There's a weak spot in the hull of Grievous' ship where the ray shields imploded." General Anakin Skywalker of the Grand Republic Army and Knight of the Jedi Order stood, back straight and tunic pressed; the picture of authoritative command and, -with sand colored waves of unruly hair and a barely noticeable smirk of confidence- a certain disregard for orthodox leadership. He continued, meeting the eyes of each seated Clone soldier with occasional gestures to the hologram model in front of him, "We infiltrate there with a squad of four Starfighters, no reinforcements, so we'll have to make this quick and accurate. Take evasive squad positioning, but prepare to fire on my ready. Any questions?"

Commander Cody stood from his chair, at attention.

"Sir, we are greatly outnumbered. How are we going to face the Vulture droids and Destroyers? That bucket of bolts is crawling with tinnies, how will we infiltrate with them blocking us?"

True, that. General Grievous never came to a battle without an army of battle droids. Attempting to infiltrate the hull was bold at the least, insane at the most. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi eyed his apprentice suspiciously, observing from the back.

Anakin quirked a small grin as he answered, "Easy. I'll lead. He could feel Obi-wan rolling his eyes. "Fall out, troopers! Everyone to your station!"

The Clones disbanded, double-timing to their posts.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan began, falling into brisk step with the younger man, following him off to the aircraft hangar. "There's a fine line between wise and crazy, and you're flirting with it. You're putting your squad at risk, and furthermore, you cannot preach thorough thinking to your Padawan while you're flying recklessly into chaos."

"Speaking of which..." Anakin remembered, pressing the comlink on his wrist, "Ahsoka, come in. Meet me in hangar B. I'm gonna need you to standby with your squadron." He looked up, glancing at Obi-Wan as he walked on. Occasionally, he couldn't tell if his old teacher genuinely worried for the safety of others, or if he simply enjoyed making battle strategies difficult and the dryly concerned tone that veiled his Coruscanti accent was just natural. "Have some faith in me, master. My squad is just as safe as it always is. Grievous is looking for me. As soon as he recognizes my fighter, all firepower is on me- Hey, stop worrying. It's all been cleared. Since when did you become my wife?" Anakin escalated to a jog into the hangar, leaving Obi-Wan to frown and shake his head.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Anakin nodded to Fives and Red, yes they should replace their fighter's power converters, and no they wouldn't need to prep Astromechs for their own jets. R2 had it covered. The Clones sturdily voiced their understanding and took their leave, just in time for Ahsoka Tano to walk into the hangar.

She bowed her head once, "Master, sorry I took so long. Rex noticed an oddly marked cruiser floating near Separatist space, unidentified but unarmored and no weapons readied. The passenger was unconscious with a minor head wound- Master Kenobi and Admiral Yularen ordered him in to the medical bay. He'll go through questioning when he comes to. What's the status on the mission?"

Anakin raised an eyebrow but shook his head, dismissing the concept of a stranded ship. Occasionally there were citizens in Mid-rim systems that were daft enough to take a joy ride out in wild space, only to drift unknowingly to the borders of enemy lines. A fine to pay and an escort, the driver would be on his way before the fireworks began.

"We're going to work our way into Grievous' ship. We'll grab the hostages and we're out free. Stay ready."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The pain seeped in by degrees.

Sore.

Luke felt a throbbing pulse somewhere on the left side of his head. "That's strange," he thought casually, a heavy fog sitting over him as he pulled his eyes open, staring dazedly at florescent lights above.

Sharp.

A sharp, splitting feel dissolved into his senses, as if part of his head had been ripped like parchment.

Burn.

Finally, he became fully aware. His hand flew to the wound on his left temple, only to be pulled away in recoil. Kriff! A gauzy pad with a bacta jelly had been stuck on the gash, but that didn't take away the raw sting of the apparent burn in his flesh.

What happened?

He glanced around, a white room. White bed, white bed sheets, white curtains...The tiled floors, scratched from many visitations with a scrub brush were probably intended to be white, also, however they gleamed a well-used grayish color. Red paint, chipped with wear, came into coherence above the rectangular shaped door, naming the little square room, "INFIRMARY, NO. 7"

Stranger and stranger still. Luke sat up in the rickety, hospital-type bed. His back felt okay, that was a good sign. He tapped his comlink, attempting to connect to Endor's control center, but he received no signal. Reflexively, he patted down his waist. Nothing.

"Oh, no..." He murmured, his brow furrowing in concern, "My lightsaber."

The door wooshed open with an electronic beep. Luke froze. Jammed comlink signal, no weapon; wherever he was, it wasn't the familiar Rebel base.

A man, maybe in his late thirties, reddish hair, wearing tawny colored tunics entered the room, along with two Storm troopers. Luke jolted, swinging his legs out of bed, readying himself. He may have been weaponless, but he was far from defenseless.

"They'll be no need for that, my friend." The man smiles vaguely beneath his well-groomed beard. Luke assessed him; Coruscanti accent. Well maintained appearance. Perhaps an extremist, still loyal to the Empire, trying to take a powerful hostage.

The man continued, "I am general Kenobi. We noticed your cruiser on our scanners..." His voice trailed off as one of the troopers exited the infirmary, only to re-enter and produce Luke's lightsaber.

The man stared into Luke's now very wide eyes, searching. After a long pause he asked, voice quiet, "Who in blazes are you?"

Before Luke could answer, a massive quake shook the ground, followed by the creak of metal beams. Somewhere outside, an stifled alarm began blaring.

The man activated his comlink, "Admiral! What is going on down there?"

A technologically processed voice answered, hurried but steady, "The central engines have been hit, general. Power to the main processors and cannons have been compromised."

"Raise the shields." The man commanded, "Kenobi, out."

He turned to the troopers, "Stay with him, he does not leave this room."

"Sir, yessir!"

With that, he exited as quickly as he had entered.

Luke remained, sat stupidly up in bed.

A cold chill ran through him, "Kenobi?" He thought to himself. "A bizarre coincidence," he tried to reason. He looked to the troopers, posted on either side of the door. Armed with blasters, but only on guard. They could be deemed a non-threat, for now.

Whatever was going on here, Luke wasn't about to stay and wait for answers. The man, whoever he was, would figure out soon enough that a lightsaber equaled Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a name which could very well induce sticky conflict with those opposing the Rebellion.

"Hey, fellas," Luke called to the troopers, catching their attention. He waved his hand in a slight gesture, "You don't want to stand guard..."

The troopers paused and, sure enough, they repeated automatically, in two voices that, oddly, seemed so similar that they sort of melted together, "We don't want to stand guard..."

Perfect. Luke focused, "You want to go...Take a break."

"We want to go...Take a break," The troopers nodded at each other as they turned to leave, as if the decision to go relax had been a clever one of their own.

He jumped out of bed, making a dash for the door. Using the power of the Force, he shoved one Trooper into a wall, his helmeted head thumping against the hard surface and knocking him unconscious. Luke snagged the second trooper's blaster with the upward pull of his palm. The weapon flew to him, and the young Jedi swiftly thumped the butt of it on the soldier's head as well.

Now, reaching for one of the fainted soldiers, Luke lifted the poor man's helmet off. Next came the body armor- thank the Force he was wearing a body suit underneath. He tucked the temporarily fallen man in the infirmary bed, donning the Storm trooper attire quickly. He was careful not to forget to grab the blaster. With the push of a button, the door slid open revealing organized chaos.

Troopers, hundreds of them ran around in the wide hallway under the screams of the alarm that now greeted him at full volume. Their armored footsteps pattered rhythmically, and among them a few men in slightly varied gray uniforms jogged to their respective posts.

The scene wasn't all too familiar with Luke, but it was easy to recognize; an Imperial Star Destroyer and, by the looks of it, it was in the middle of a crisis. The fact that the Imperial Naval vessels in their entirety had all been repossessed by the senate was hardly relevant. Luke was a prisoner, and he couldn't waste time figuring out the details of the situation.

He tried his best to avoid stumbling and glancing, attempting to blend in with the rushed soldiers, just until he could figure out an escape. It was a trick he learned from Han- "If you act like you know where you're going, no one will question you." It was harder than it looked.

As Luke scurried along, the hallway opened up into a massive control center, the obvious heart of the ship. Tall blue screens gleamed with battle tactics and maps. Troopers manned computers. A few stately men in gray uniforms, bearing modest medals directed the traffic and, each manning a control station or their own laser cannon the ship and firing missiles, around thirty or so men stood erect...Each baring the exact. Same. Face.

New reasoning. This was not a hostage situation, but a dream. Luke stood in the middle of a dream battleship, in a dream war, surrounded by dream people. It was ridiculous- clones hadn't been used for ten...What was it, maybe twenty years?

And yet, there they were. With the same dark skin, the same straight nose and the same, more or less, brown hair.

"Anakin!" The familiar voice from the infirmary cried out in that Coruscanti lilt.

"Now is the time!"

Luke ducked his head slightly, trying to appear busy and inconspicuous at a control panel. The numerous buttons stared at him. From his corner, he could see the man had entered from the left side of the huge room and directed his shout towards the opposite side. Luke followed his gaze.

"I'm on it!" Anakin, (was that a common name, too?) apparently, answered with a growl. "I just have to- there you are!"

Oh _no_.

The reasoning that this was all a dream filled him with zero confidence as very real sweat began to head on his armor clad brow.

The "Anakin" man jogged over, "What is the matter with you?!" His voice came in a hushed bark, so as not to draw too much attention to the situation. Quiet as it may have been, the demand shook Luke of his internal conflict. "Get up, come with me."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The medical droid's inner circuits hummed, creating a soft, metallic vibration over its frame as it worked.  
It refilled the plastic bag that slowly dripped its clear liquids through a tube, into the young man's wrist.

"Good Morning, senator Organa." The droid said automatically, as the female entered the proximity.

She moved the muscles of her face that signaled worry, and the droid could infer that she was concerned for the man's health.

"It is indeed type 77, senator. He could have contracted the virus from undercooked meat, but in any event the diagnostics have returned positive."

She seemed to ignore the droid, walking to the bedside where the man lay. She crouched down, despite her expense looking dress that now touched the makeshift hospital's floor. Her hand brushed his blonde hair away from his closed eyes.

"Oh, Luke," She whispered to him. "How did this happen? You be strong, we're all being strong for you, you know-" Her voice cracked.

Illogical, the droid concluded the situation to be so. The man was unconscious, he could not hear the female senator.

Another man entered the room. "Good morning, general Solo," the droid recited, rolling to the sanitation unit to cleanse its forceps.

The man embraced the female, his arms slinking around her waist.

The female senator murmured to him, "They said it could be anywhere from a week to several months. The virus is attacking his nerves. The antibiotic should help, and he's stable but..."

The man stopped her, kissing the top of her head, "The kid's strong, Leia. He took out a fleet of Storm troopers and finished off both DeathStars as an afterthought. He'll be just fine."

The man was worried too, the droid processed.  
Perhaps not. It was difficult to decipher. The mix of embrace with a furrowed brow was a confusing one. 2-1B would need its Human Protocol software updated.


End file.
